


Miss Misery

by kashicanhaz



Series: Look At Me [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Gen, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 12:08:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/735465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kashicanhaz/pseuds/kashicanhaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Look At Me" universe: Sandor and Sansa's first encounter.<br/>Title from (and inspired by) Miss Misery by Elliott Smith.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miss Misery

**_Fuck,_** _she is pretty_ he thought hopelessly to himself, taking in the grinning, glowing redheaded vision before him.  Her great big eyes were elsewhere, meeting his employer’s, deliberately shying away from his ugly scarred mug and leaving him alone as he admired her.  _The kind of pretty that makes painters famous, if they can capture it,_ he continued, further considering her incredible beauty, though he’d already begun to mock himself for it.  _Too good for the likes of you, dog, and too dumb, no doubt._   But though he’d seen pictures of Sansa Stark before (including a few she would be mortified to know the twerp had shared with him) and was perfectly aware that she was hot, it was not until this moment, as the party stepped off the Baratheon company jet, that he had seen her in the flesh and been hit with an understanding that the girl was _beautiful_.  Truthfully, recklessly, dangerously beautiful.

He hadn’t even recognized that he was freezing his balls off in the New England February.

 _Hope the twerp appreciates her._ But Sandor knew he didn’t.  Since when had Joffrey Baratheon ever appreciated anything he was given?

He knew how to behave, at least, giving the girl a sweet-seeming kiss the moment he stepped off the plane and holding her hand every second he could for the rest of the evening.  She played her part well too—blushing and smiling and laughing at everything the twerp said, not adding anything to the conversation or giving any impression of complex thought whatsoever.  He was a little disappointed, really; he’d hoped for her sake that the girl would have something like a backbone she could use to weather the twerp’s stormy moods.  But if there was one thing Joffrey Baratheon knew, it was how to recognize a submissive personality, and Sandor doubted he’d even keep the number of any girl who did not openly display this virtue.

Once the week was done and there were no more parties he had to watch Joffrey and the Stark girl _enjoy_ , both families and their entourages crammed themselves into the Baratheon company plane and set off on the long journey back from Boston to LA, with a planned pit-stop in Denver, as Mrs. Lannister-Baratheon absolutely _loathed_ flying and would not be made to endure any flight longer than three hours without stopping to stretch those endless legs of hers.  (She was an established MILF to be sure, but in his time working for her family he’d come to _know_ her, and as coarse a man as he might be, her sex appeal, though extreme, was not near enough to overcome her character flaws, as far as he was concerned.) 

And so it was that he had his first exchange with Sansa Stark in the Denver airport, scaring her so badly he thought she might cry.

She had probably been about to cry anyway, but the look in her eyes had cut him to the quick nonetheless, gutting him, choking him up, he who thought he’d hewn himself from stone.  The girl had been locked in a stare-down with Payne, one of his ‘co-workers,’ so to speak, though theirs was hardly a friendly office environment.  “You’re shaking, girl,” Sandor had said, trying to coax her attention away from the horror of a man before her.  He’d put his hands on her shoulders and spun her around, watching her expression change from one of fear, to mild relief, to fear again, to disgust, and then back to fear, focussing her wetting gaze on his brown leather jacket, surely finding it more pleasant to look at than his red leather face.  And as much as he knew he should be used to it now, after nineteen years of nearly the same routine from every person he’d ever faced, he was not.  Her polite aversion to staring at him dug at his heart the same way it had when his teacher had done the same thing on his first day back from the hospital in second grade, freshly burned and alienated for the first time.

He gritted his teeth and found the hardness in himself, trying to ignore it, but instead he found himself asking, “Do I frighten you so much, girl?”  He had meant to say something else—something nice, maybe, make some joke about how ugly Payne was, his pockmarked gray skin almost worse than Sandor’s own (he did have _one_ good side, after all) but instead the girl had drawn the truth from him without even asking for it.  He wanted to make her look at him, but was suddenly afraid of how he would feel if she did.

Joffrey came bounding over to save the day as she wrenched herself from beneath his hands, sending another stab of pain to his dignity and self- esteem and pushing him further out from her comfortable little world than he already was.  _We live in completely different worlds,_ he quickly realized.  And then (as if to drive home the point) it nearly broke his heart the way she smiled at the twerp when he barked at him, “get lost, dog, you’re scaring my girl,” as he pulled her closer by the waist, giving him all of her big blue-eyed attention.  If looks could kill, it’d be that one that did him in.  (And here he’d been, thinking that cliché always referred to looks received...)

 _If you only knew how easy it would be to snatch her away with me,_ he thought darkly, though giving a curt nod and stalking off to find himself some food or drink.  Johnnie Walker Red, maybe.  But he sighed to himself, failing at distraction.  He’d never just _take_ her.  She’d have to _come with him_.

But that would never happen. 

(Johnnie Walker won out over food.)

And so it was that he had his first exchange with Sansa Stark in the Denver airport, scaring her so badly he thought she might cry.

 


End file.
